Running Head On
by Rubeus
Summary: A short ValGaav vignette. "You picked me off the ground, when I wasn't strong enough to fight.. anymore, but in your arms tonight. Hold close and tight.. in your arms tonight, Oh my love.."


~*~ Hello again, readers! I got bored at school, and decided I would use my time to type up a short little fic for Valgaav and Gaav. mainly because I was bored, and listening to some whiny Tommy Gnosis song. (Tommy Gnosis is a fictional rock icon in the musical "Hewig and the Angry Inch". and he's very whiny. I have the soundtrack. =P) Anyway, I hope you all like it. Please R&R! (This is a songfic. I usually don't do those, but as I said before, I was bored.)  
  
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Silken tresses hung limp around the young dragon's face, as he sat in his small dark room in a place that had once belonged to the glorious Demon Dragon King, or Gaav Maryou. This was the mazoku who had rebelled against his own race, simply because he had been cursed with a human soul, because he no longer desired what the Monster race desired. They outcast him because he had been different. They had tortured and hurt him, and cast him out into the world, alone. And then they had the nerve to call him a traitor, to hunt him down to bring him once again to shame, to once again torture and hurt him. Not even to kill him.. just to humiliate him.  
  
They had so much or common. Or they once had, rather.  
  
Valgaav had never really truly been a servant. He wasn't gifted with powers to assist his master with. He was mainly kept a quiet little secret, hidden within the depths of Gaav's quarters. Gaav had never asked him to do the same things as Kanzel and the other servants. He never asked him to kill people, or go out and find things for him.  
  
In fact, Valgaav had never really considered himself a servant to the uruly giant. He was more of a friend. A quite friend, a secretive advisor. He had been the only one to see Gaav in his weakest moments, and he had been the only one allowed to console him, to give him comfort. No one was allowed this but him. And it was that reason alone the young ancient didn't consider himself a servant. Gaav had let him break past the barriers of steel and brick he had placed in his mind and emotion, to block the confusion and constant battle between him human soul and his mazoku mind. It seemed that the human side had won out-to an extent. He had, after all, decided that he would not go along with the regular, common desires that a demon might have. He instead decided he wanted to rule. He had gained the human desire of power. And it was revenge that drove him on. He wanted to take revenge on his kin for casting him out so unfairly.  
  
So, the ancient sat in silent lament, trying so hard to keep the tears back. He now realized how a dam must feel when it tries to hold back so much water. He shook, and trembled, and whimpered, but he refused to let himself cry. Gaav hated it when he did that. Mainly because the Chaos Dragon felt as if he had to comfort the boy, like the boy had done for him so many times in the past. But this of course, was inconceivable to him. He could not utter a sweet word.. it made him sick to do so. And Valgaav understood this. The young ancient did not ever expect for him to really show love in return, and Gaav did not have the words to say it even if he wanted to, but he knew that the love was there.  
  
Valgaav's memory (as much as he wished it not to) tricked back gently like a small brook to the past, when they had first met. Valgaav had been attacked by his own Genus, the allies of the Gods who were dragons, just like he was. They had attacked them, claiming that the ancients were a violent race, and that the world would be better without them. In truth, they were afraid of the power that the ancients held. However, the ancients had never intended, and never had utilized their power, even when it meant the death of their own race. And so cruelly, the Allies of the Gods hunted down even the last few dozen stragglers, making sure that every bit of their race was wiped out.  
  
Valgaav (or Val at the time) had been lucky enough to be the last survivor of the race. He had fought for years, generations. to keep alive. He stayed in secret caves near small farming towns, and stole sheep from their flocks to feed upon. He made his own clothing from discarded articles that he found sifting through the filth of the cities. And, when an ancient arrived, he had fought and fought to keep alive. For a long time, he managed to evade the Allies of the Gods. He had enough time to let his body partly mature. By human standards, however, he was no more than a boy. His body did not appear more than seventeen or eighteen years of age. But dragons age very slowly. So, Val had been lucky enough to evade them for so long.  
  
On a fateful day, however, when he himself had been contemplating ending his miserable life, they had finally zeroed in on the unfortunate ancient. Three Allies had come to his small cave, and chased him out. He flew and fought for miles, until finally, he could fight no more.  
  
They ended up in the desert area, where Val finally had collapsed. He could not stand, but still, he smiled abrasively up at the Allies as they advanced upon him. A smile that challenged them to do their worst. He knew he would not win, but he would not give up his life to the race that had killed even un-hatched dragonets, innocent beings who had not yet been corrupted by the evils of the world. His young mind had been shattered watching this all happen. They stole away his loved ones, his life, his youth.. his purity. They had raped him in essence. His mind was no longer that of a child, even when he had still been one.  
  
The Allies hovered momentarily, and nodded to one another. They knew that this one was going to die. They flew away, and Val smiled to himself. He knew he was going to die as well, but not by the hands of those wretched beings at least. He would rather have died by monster hand than THEIRS.  
  
He tried to stand, but only tumbled pathetically over a small dune. He slid to a slow stop, and felt the sand scraping into his fair skin, making him bleed. He winced, but this was of no matter. If he were to die, it didn't matter how many scrapes and bruises he received.  
  
He could fight no more, and he was thankful he didn't have to. He had run head on time and time again into things that knocked him down over again. It was his worst defeat, and his best victory. He had been the last to survive. The most determined to keep fighting on. He looked up into the distance as he felt his body grow cold, and saw a silhouette through the dusty winds. As he came closer, Val had immediately recognized the giant man clad in yellow. He had seen him in books and paintings, he had heard of his terrors and powers.  
  
This was the Demon Dragon King. The only notable Mazoku to ever rebel against his own race. The only Dark Lord to turn against his very own creator. He felt his anger rise, and he sneered with hate at the newcomer.  
  
"So.." he choked out. "Has Gaav, the Demon Dragon King come to watch the last ancient die?"  
  
The man only smirked.  
  
It was at this moment, Val realized, Gaav had let his human emotion take over. He felt pity for the ancient, for the pathetic, bony young man lying to die in the sand, to give in to his fate. Gaav immediately knew that they were meant for each other. This however, he never spoke, and never had. The closest he had come was to say something about them bring kindred spirits.  
  
"Well I'm not done yet!" He cried out and stood to transform one last time. But he only felt pain. He felt white-hot pain shoot through his dying body. His wings disappeared, and he fell to the ground, coughing violently, spewing blood onto the pale yellow grains of earth.  
  
"It's over, young Val of the Ancients," The man said simply. Val knew it. He had not the strength to do anymore. He knew that it was finally his time to die, and no matter how he willed himself to stand up again, he could not. His body would not let him. His limbs were numb. So it amazed him when he stood and staggered the few steps he had to fall into the man's strangely warm and protective arms. This touch alone made him happy, and he smiled when Gaav had run him through with his sword. He felt the demon's heart race with excitement at the site of blood, and knew that this was partly for his own pleasure. He didn't care, though. This was kindest anyone had ever been to him. Instead of death, he had offered him life. He had offered a place of servitude under an illustrious Dark Lord. How could Val have refused?  
  
Gaav had picked him up off the ground when he wasn't strong enough to fight..  
  
Anywhere but in his arms, at least. He felt he could do anything, if he could just see his master everyday, if he could make him smile. He didn't even want him to say he loved him. Val did indeed love the monster, but he didn't care if Gaav returned the love or not. For all he knew, the Dark Lord saw him no more as an advisor. Gaav knew that the ancient had emotions, and he always went to him to try and sort out these human emotions he was constantly battling. But he had let him glimpse into the beautifully complex web that was Gaav's enigma of a soul. And that was more than he could ask for.  
  
So when the dragon found out about his masters demise, he was to say the least, more than upset. He didn't know what to do. He hadn't left Gaav's chambers for weeks. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know who had killed him, and he didn't have enough power to fight whoever it was. Gaav had not given him power; he had no need to, and Val did not need it. Val felt as if he had lost a part of himself. It was just as painful as when he was dying, and Val fancied that he would die without Gaav's presence. He was, after all, his progeny in a way. He was a part of the monster. But Gaav was a shard of Shabranigdo, and he had not died when Shabranigdo had. He didn't actually know if Shabranigdo was dead, after all, in essence he was still alive. All the Dark Lords, besides Gaav, were alive and well. And they were a part of Shabranidgo.  
  
But he wished so much he could die. He wanted to be with his master. He wanted to be with the only one that he could remember showing him love.  
  
So when the Overworlder, Alymace came to him and offered him power, in exchange for his help, he could not refuse. He did not revere Alymace as the savior he had for Gaav. After all, Alymace never saved him. He just wanted to gain something in return for the power he granted Val. He lived only to avenge Gaav. This was it. And there was no Hellmaster to avenge. That damned sorceress had made sure to this. Or rather, the Sea of Chaos had. But it was Lina who had summoned it. So he went after the triggers of his masters death, which happened to be Lina Inverse, and the monster, Xellos Metallium.  
  
Over time, his ambitions slightly changed, but it was all in the name of his Lord. Valgaav had never been a decisive person. But his heart stayed true. The only thing that changed in his plans was what he wanted to do, and what he personally wanted.  
  
He wanted it all to return to nothing. He wanted the world to just dissapear. He didn't care about Darkstar, the human race, or the Golden Dragons. He cared about Gaav, and Gaav was gone. To him, the world should be gone as well. Everything should just disappear.  
  
He wanted everything to return to white.  
  
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Running Head on,  
  
To things that knock me down,  
  
Over again.  
  
You picked me off the ground,  
  
When I wasn't strong enough to fight..  
  
Anymore,  
  
But in your arms tonight.  
  
Hold me close and tight,  
  
In your arms tonight.  
  
Oh my Love..  
  
~Tommy Gnosis, "Hedwig and the Angry Inch"~  
  
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End file.
